Guided By The Spirits
by Thunderbird29
Summary: Something powerful was lost to magical world long ago. Lost in time, it is now considered just another legend, until now that is because every legend, every myth holds some truth in it and Harry Potter is going to prove it. Features a Smart and Powerful Harry. Note: Its NOT a Godlike! Harry Potter fic.


**GUIDED BY THE SPIRITS**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and have no intention of making any kind of profit from this story.**

 **Author Note: I usually don't write author note and waste time of my readers but since its first chapter, it is needed.**

 **1\. This is only my second story so there will be mistakes but let me assure you that my work is grammatically better than ninety percent fanfics posted here. If you don't like my story line then its just a personal opinion.**

 **2\. I have not read a story with similar concept anywhere on the web and believe that it is fresh piece.**

 ** _BETA REQUIRED_ : If you are interested in Beta testing this story then pls contact me. The only condition is that your knowledge on language should be solid, hopefully better than mine.**

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 **Chapter-1: Meeting the spirit**

It was a cold winter night in England. However, a child living in Surrey would probably disagree with it. He was none other than the boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, the most famous wizard in Europe if not the whole world. Though what many in the wizarding world will find scandalous is the fact that the boy in question was neither aware of his parentage nor his fame.

He was currently riding on high fever, his whole body was flushed and the small cupboard was stifled by the uncommon heat that the child was producing. It all started like this.

 _ **Flashback…**_

The day went by as usual, well usual for him that is. He was worked to the bone by his aunt; it was nothing new for the eight year old after years of doing chores for his relatives. What had been new was the verbal and physical beating that his uncle gave him after coming home. His only crime was that he had accidently spilled some water on the dining table while filling glasses for dinner.

His uncle was in foul mode when he came from the office, something about not being promoted even after being such a hard worker. The young wizard, not that he knew, unfortunately gave him the perfect opportunity. He had already cleaned the small mess by the time Vernon came down for dinned but when he saw Petunia berating the unfortunate boy, he held nothing back and struck the boy across the face, hard.

The Dursley man didn't even let the boy get up on his own before grabbing his hair and dragging him up. Vernon started smacking him roughly while bellowing curses in the boy's face. One…two…three…ten SLAPs ranged through the house like gunshot before Petunia was finally able to calm down her furious husband.

Yet, it was too late by then. The boy was trying hard not to cry out in pain, knowing that it will only lead to more beating. His face was covered in heavy bruises and his lips split with blood coming out of the cut. During the beating, his glasses had broken, injuring him even more in the process. There was a deep gash on his right cheek where a piece of lens was lodged in the skin when Vernon slapped him.

There was a lot of blood gushing out from the wound and the burning sensation throughout his face was making his eyes water. His eyes that once held innocence, curiosity, caution and a bit of pain were now filled with nothing but grief, doubt, anger, confusion but worst of all hate.

Hate for himself for being so weak and hate towards his relatives for their unjust behavior. Hate towards his parents for being drunkard low-lifes and dying in a car-crash. Hate towards the neighbors and his teachers for not seeing the obvious abuse and making his life even more difficult. Hate towards Dudley and his friends for bullying him and making him feel so helpless. It was just too much and he was asking himself, was it all even worth it.

Though, he was quick to focus on present when his Aunt started a heated conversation with his Uncle.

"Vernon, what is wrong with you!? Do you want to be labeled as a murderer?" She screeched out.

"You can't be serious Petunia! The little freak deserved it and why do you care for him all of a sudden?" Vernon bellowed.

"Don't be stupid Vernon, I could care less if the freak lived or died! But I love you and my duddikins, Vernon. His kind will come swarming in if we dealt with the boy in any manner. They are definitely keeping an eye on us by one of their freakish ways." His aunt hissed out though Harry was only able to follow half the conversation due to the amount of pain he was in.

His uncle's purple face paled rapidly. It looked liked his aunt hit a mark and whoever these people were, Vernon was deathly afraid of them.

"Alright Petunia, I will let you deal with the little devil from now on. Though, if he tried to do any funny business, I will not be cowed by those freaking people and will beat the freakishness out of him!" Vernon warned but finally calmed down.

"That is all I ask you sweetheart. Now go and take a seat dear. Dudley will be home anytime now. Meanwhile, I will deal with the freak." The earlier sweet tone was replaced by such venom that most people would have been shaken by it.

She went in the bathroom and opened the closet. She took out a first aid box and once again entered the kichen. She threw the box at his feet and said distastefully, "Stop making mess on my floor and go to your cupboard. Don't dare to show your face around tonight boy, or the beating you will receive will make the one that you received just now look like a love tap. Now shoo…"

Harry got up with some difficulty and started dragging himself towards the cupboard. He stumbled inside and closed the door behind. He switched the light on and tried to open the medical kit that he had taken from the kitchen floor, only to fail due to his shaking hands.

He remained like this for the next couple of hours, his body unmoving while his mind continued to race. He was using all his self-control not to cry like he wanted to, he was feeling horrible inside, like there was no hope left for him. He was contemplating if he should even continue to live; it was not like anyone would miss him or anything.

He would have continued with his morbid thoughts had the sound of someone opening his cupboard's door not drawn his attention. A plate of leftovers was handed by his unseen benefactor, although he could clearly see that it was his aunt by the bony hand.

He quickly accepted the plate and the door was once again closed and locked. He waited another half-hour to make sure that everything was quiet. When he was sure that his relatives were asleep, he tore in his dinner with gusto. It was not much and his face hurt because of eating so fast but he couldn't help it, he was very hungry after being denied lunch that day.

Once his dinner was over, he curled up and lay on his side. He tried to sleep but the day's events didn't let him sleep at all. He tried finding justification for his relatives' behavior towards him, he tried to believe that he really was a freak and that they were right in punishing him, but for some reason he just couldn't. He was just too mature not to know that what they were doing was wrong and not to mention criminal.

He was not book smart and lacked knowledge on lot of things, mostly because of being confined in house while doing a number of chores for his aunt, but he was a good observer and learned things either from seeing them happen or doing them himself.

This was not the first time that he had been beaten but this beating was the worst that he had ever received and that too for such a minor grievance. Unbidden the memories of the night once again appeared in his tortured mind, the earlier shaking that was slowly decreasing soon turned in full blown trembling. Soon the trembling gave way to occasional sniffles which became full blown tears in no time.

It was heartbreaking to see a child of eight falling in despair with no one to hold him. He made minimal sound even while crying with practiced ease, a sad thing to say but Harry Potter was nothing if not cautious. He cried silently, he raged silently and then he screamed silently but nothing managed to lighten his heart. Soon he ran out of tears and started relaxing ever so slightly.

The Potter wizard suddenly remembered the first aid box from earlier. He successfully opened it this time and started rummaging through it. He took out a paste for bruises, a solution to clean his wounds, some cotton and bandages; those were the only things that he knew how to use.

He started by cleaning himself first, followed by applying the paste and solution. Finally he bandaged all his wounds to the best of his abilities. He was not sure if the cut to his right cheek will ever heal completely, he was used to having most of his injuries healed in a day or two but this time the cut was big and deep. Once done with his handiwork, he slumped down on his bed and completely relaxed for the first time in day.

Not much later, his breathing evened out and he fell asleep. He didn't know, but today's events had unlocked something in him that people considered only a myth, even in the magical world.

 _ **Present…**_

Harry Potter didn't know why but he was all of a sudden feeling hot and uncomfortable. He was sweating something fierce but for the life of him couldn't wake up. It was a very strange and frightening experience in his relatively short life. He knew what was happening with his body but could do nothing but feel the fever burning through his system and struggle against the unseen force that seemed to have him here, wherever here was.

A voice suddenly spoke through the darkness that was surrounding him. **"Do not struggle child. I am not here to harm you."**

Harry stopped at once, he hesitantly asked, "Wh-Who is the-there?"

" **All will be answered soon young Potter, after all that is what I am here for."** Now that Harry was actively focusing on voice, he could tell that it was feminine, yet powerful at the same time.

He waited as asked but could not stop himself from trying to find the voice every once in a while. Though, all he saw was darkness, he tried to look down to see if he had any kind of body but to his growing shock, he found nothing there. Finally having enough he asked, "Are you still here, whoever you are."

It was quiet for a moment before the voice returned and said **,** **"I apologize for the delay young Potter. I was healing your wounds and it took more time than I anticipated."**

He was taken aback for a moment and was thinking that she was kidding him. 'Well I will play along for now. It is not like I can do anything about it,' he thought. Instead he replied back, "It is alright ma'am. You can call me Harry if you like."

The voice was silent for a moment before replying **, "Alright, Harry it is. Now, let me introduce myself. I am Angelos, a spirit that specializes in magic and other arcane arts. I am a soul that has ascended beyond human realm and has gained an understanding of life far greater than what a human can have."**

Harry stared blankly for a moment before deadpanning, "So you are some kind of ghost and magic exists."

" **Its not that simple but I believe that the finer details can be discussed when you are older and need proper understanding of our culture. And yes, magic do exists, not only for us but also for humans."** She said slowly, trying to make it easier for the eight year old to understand.

Harry remained silent, trying to process the information that he just received. He was not sure whether to believe this woman…this spirit but something inside him was telling him to do so. He knew that what he was hearing could not be just his imagination; his imagination was certainly not that vivid.

Harry asked with a tone filled with hope and wonder, "Can I do magic?"

The voice was silent for a minute making Harry fear that the spirit was not going to answer. **"You do have ability to use magic, but you would only succeed in creating chaos as you are now."**

Harry shouted in indignation before he could stop himself, "Hey! I am not like Dudley, I am a good boy." His eyes widened as soon as he realized what he had said and was just about to apologize when the soft laughter of spirit filled his ears.

" **Yes Mr. Potter, you are a good boy but I did not mean it like that. I was not questioning your ability to learn but just pointing out that you would have to train first if you want to do anything beside blowing things up. You are what people call a wizard Harry. Magical children do not have enough control over magic for them to correctly wield its power. That is why they are not allowed to use magic until they reach eleven."**

"Then why have you come for me? What makes me so special?" Harry asked confused and lost.

" **Harry, Potter family, your family, is a very old magical family. Your family has a contract with me that dictate that I will help in any matter that the family wants at my discretion in return of some perks."**

Harry latched on the word 'family' and asked, "I have family?"

" **I am sorry to say that you are last of your family Harry. That is one of the reasons why I am here. Potters are one of the oldest if not the oldest magical family in Britain and hold a lot of power and prestige that you will have to look after once you enter the magical world."**

His hopes were dashed when he heard that he had no family left, but he tried to remain tough and soon managed to distract himself with the information that was being provided to him.

Harry asked himself in awe, "Magical world; how can one enter in magical world?"

The spirit once again chuckled and said **, "When you turn eleven, you will be allowed to enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will be trained there for next seven years with your fellow year mates from all over Britain. Now, I do not have much time left child. I can only appear before you once a year until you turn eleven. So ask any questions that you want."**

Harry was saddened to hear that but heard the sincerity in her voice so knew that there must have been a reason behind it. He thought back on the conversation and remembered something that had been bugging him.

"Why my body is burning up?" He asked.

" **In order to talk to you, I was forced to invade your mind with my powers. Your magic is actively fighting against my power since I am using a large part of it to trap you here. It is both a good thing and a bad thing. More magic ensures that our conversation is loud and clear but at the same time it fights me as you are not trained enough to control it."**

The young boy pondered over it for a moment and after finally understanding it well enough asked, "Can you…can you tell me about my parents?"

The spirit replied in a somber tone **, "Your parents, James and Lily, were one of the most talented wizards and witches of their generation. They were both known for their charisma and kindness. Your father was goofball most of the time but he constantly showed surprising amount of wisdom and insight when things became serious. You know, you look just like your father but you have your mother's eyes…"** her voice trailed off as if remembering something from the past.

He smiled while a tear rolled down his check. He always suspected that the story that his relatives fed him was a load of bull but he had no evidence to prove otherwise. Now that he knew that they were respected members of society he wondered how much the story about their death was true.

He steadied himself but still ended up stuttering, "Ho-How did they d-die?"

There was a long pause before Angelos replied **, "They were killed in the war against dark forces by dark lord himself. Voldemort was his name, he was leader of the group of wizards that believed that those who came from old families were better than those born from non-magical parents."**

" **What you have to understand Harry is that there are basically three types of wizards based on blood status. Pure-bloods: wizards that can trace their lineage back to certain number of generations with minimum being two, meaning that both sets of grandparents must be magical. Half-bloods: wizards with at least one magical parent and two magical grandparents. Muggleborn: wizards that are born to non-magical parents or Muggles."**

" **Your father, James Potter was an auror, a pureblood wizard who was member of magical law enforcement while your mother Lily was working to gain mastery in one of the magical subjects, namely Charms. Your mother was a muggleborn, someone that Voldemort and his cult didn't think worthy of possessing magic. Your parents and grandparents from your father's side were some of the frontline fighters in the war. They are the most famous war heroes of the last war."**

" **This is the not the complete story but I will only tell you the other half when I think you are ready for it. I apologize and urge you not to seek anyone out. It is very rare for wizarding families to have a magical contract with my kind, even the old families. Your knowledge about your parent's death will certainly raise many red flags for the parties who were purposely keeping you in the dark till now."**

Harry wanted to shout, to curse, to scream but held his tongue knowing that it will only go on to show that he was not mature enough to learn the secret."When will I see you again?"

" **On your birthdays Harry, but know that I am always watching over you. Do not let anyone know about magic or me. Keep it secret and know that your magic is closely tied to your emotions, in order to prevent discovery you should keep your emotions in check."**

" **Do you have anything to add Harry?"** At his shake of head she continued **, "Well then, it seems like it. Know that your parents loved you very much so and they fought till their last breath for you. Do not let their sacrifice go in vain child, you have the potential to become a legend Harry, don't let anyone stop you on your way to the top, not even yourself."**

Soon Harry felt himself returning to consciousness. The last thing he heard before waking up was **,** **"Good luck Harry Potter, make your ancestors proud."**

Once he regained consciousness, he sat upright and was surprised to see that all his wounds from earlier were healed. Considering everything that he had learned, he shouldn't have been so surprised but it was so hard to accept it all. However, this was all the proof he needed to know that everything that happened in his mind, dream or whatever that place was, was very much real.

He grinned more widely than ever and let the tears of happiness roll down his cheeks. It has been so long that the hope that he was feeling in his heart seemed foreign. He could only hope that things will be better going ahead.

"Don't worry Angelos, I will make you and my ancestors proud. More importantly, I will make both my mum and dad proud of me." He whispered in darkness.

 **To be continued...**

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